


White Christmas

by Sandpipersummer



Category: The Charioteer - Renault
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandpipersummer/pseuds/Sandpipersummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seasonal, with a very small twist of angst... ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trueriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueriver/gifts).



> Just a little extra treat for you, my dear... XXX Love, 'A Friend'

'The fact is, Spud, that a white Christmas is nothing but wishful thinking.'

'Yes, but--'

'Did you know there was a mini ice age between 1550 and 1850, and that's where all this nonsense springs from? It doesn't happen these days.'

'I do read the newspaper, too, you know.'

'Well, then, why are you blathering on about the weather? I'll be absolutely fine, and I'll be back in plenty of time.'

'But the forecast--'

'To hell with the forecast, Spud. You can never rely on those things anyway.'

That, more or less, had been the extent of the conversation between Laurie Odell and Ralph Lanyon on Christmas Eve, in the year of… Well, no need to remind you what year it is. Ralph had left the house after luncheon, intending on spending no more than an hour (perhaps two) driving to the farm that sold Christmas trees, purchasing one suitable for the cottage, then driving back. Six hours later, however, Laurie had drunk four double whiskies and was feeling somewhat the worse for wear, but wasn't quite sure whether he felt worried at Ralph's non-appearance, or strangely elated at proving him wrong for once. He looked at the remaining liquid. It was tempting, but the last thing to do would be to pass out in the hallway.

Snow had been falling for the last five hours, which meant Ralph must surely have reached his destination, and was most likely still having a drink with the farmer and waiting for the blizzard to stop. On the other hand, he may well be stuck in the midst of it and be freezing to death. Laurie poured himself another half-tumbler, staggered into the living room and collapsed on the sofa nearest the fire. Damn and blast the man!

Meanwhile, the erstwhile Ralph was indeed sharing a merry tipple or two with the farmer, who had successfully managed to grapple him under some mistletoe (only threepence a sprig!) and secure a very respectful (or otherwise) kiss. This had surprised Ralph so much he had responded rather too enthusiastically until remembering he hadn't been a single man for quite some years. He pulled away, urged the farmer to steady on, old chap, and left without being obliged to pay for the tree.

Unfortunately, in his slightly inebriated state, Ralph had forgotten they were staying at the cottage, so put his foot down hard and headed into town. At the empty flat, he sobered up somewhat, picked up some late post and drove rather more carefully back the way he had come.

And so it was that, well past midnight on the Eve of Christmas, and thus rendering it the Day itself, Ralph Lanyon (rather mistaken on the point about there being little chance of a white Christmas) returned to his beloved Laurie Odell, asleep and snoring by the cold embers of their once cosy fire. The whisky bottle lay empty on the rug, the air was filled with the distinct reek of eau de distillery and the decorations were still in the box. Ralph relit the fire, arranged the tree in the corner of the room and proceeded to hang up some baubles.

'How appropriate, dahling,' came a rather slurred voice from the sofa when he was jamming the fairy at the top of the tree.

'You never could hold your drink.'

'I should think not. I'm a nice boy.'

'That's not what I heard.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Yes.'

Then proceeded to prove that point at least.


End file.
